[Stucky One Shots and Drabbles]

Bucky's Back

He wasn't sure exactly what to think. It was like none of it was even real, that his best friend didn't really survive a fall off a train, or that his best friend then tried to kill him, or that his best friend was now asleep on his sofa.

It had been almost two years.

Then, just out of the blue one day, his doorbell rings.

Maybe it's the mailman, Steve had thought.

Or maybe it's Sam.

Someone asking for donations?

No, no, and no.

It was what Steve had secretly been longing for for two years but was afraid to get his hopes up.

It was his best friend from over 70 years ago.

Bucky stood in Steve's doorway, clutching a piece of paper in a gloved hand.

Steve didn't know what to say. He just stood there, his jaw dropped as he tried to determine if he was hallucinating or not.

He took in the fallen friend's appearance. He wore jeans with holes in them that looked two sizes too big, a stained red shirt that hugged his body tightly,  with an old jacket over it, and a single glove covering his left hand. His hair had gotten longer, and looking in dire need of a washing and combing.

Bucky unfolded the piece of paper and showed it to Steve.
"This is us, isn't it? " He asked quietly.

Steve looked at the photo. It was the picture Steve had paid five whole dollars to get taken, the picture of him and Bucky grinning on the boardwalk in Brooklyn.

The picture was definitely old, it was in black and white, the edges were torn apart, and it was only about the size of a credit card. He wondered where Bucky had gotten it from.

Steve had taken a deep breath as he mustered the courage to let out a slight nod. "Yes, " He managed to squeak. "That's us. "

Just the words felt like honey on his tongue.
Us. It had been a long time since he'd referred to James Buchanan Barnes and himself as us.

Bucky had stared at him for a long time after Steve had confirmed the photo.

His eyes flickered back and forth between the photo and Steve, as if searching for evidence.

"You were small then. " Bucky managed to say after what seemed like an eternity.

Steve nodded. "Yes, I was. " He was unsure of how much he should tell the soldier.

"You got sick a lot. " Bucky stated, waiting for Steve to confirm it.

Again, Steve nodded and smiled slightly. "You would take care of me. "

Steve's eyes widened at what he just said. It had just slipped out.

Bucky's breathing began to become ragged. He inhaled deeply and seemed to have trouble exhaling.

"Buck, are you al-"

Bucky wrapped both of his arms around Steve's waist tightly, embracing the long lost friend.

The blonde stiffened at the action, then hesitantly put his arms around the other man's shoulders.

"I remember you. " Bucky said quietly.

Steve sighed. He had been waiting for those words, bit was terrified that they would never come.

He reluctantly let go of Bucky and motioned to the open apartment door. "You should come in. "

***************************

And Now Bucky lay asleep on his sofa.
Steve couldn't help but think that his friend looked rather cozy. His hair had been freshly washed and lay damp at the sides of his face, his body clothed with a pair of Steve's sweat pants and the shirts.

He had gotten out of the shower and changed, then plopped down on the sofa, and was out like a light.

Steve had chuckled a little at that, then it dawned on him that he didn't know when the last time was that his friend had somewhere warm and safe to sleep.

He covered his friend with a blanket and softly tucked it underneath the man's chin and around his body, like Bucky had done for him often when he was small and sick.

Bucky stirred slightly, his eyelashes fluttered open for a brief moment. His eyes turned up towards Steve, who was standing over him, then closed once again, his slumber resuming.

Steve smiled slightly. He walked to the other side of the living room and sat down in the recliner chair and watched his friend sleep.

He thought about how warm the two could be if they were cuddled up together on the sofa- the space would be limited, but they would be pressed together and comfortable.

He thought how it would feel to run his fingers through Bucky's tousled, freshly shampooed hair. How he would like to rest his head on his friend's shoulder and inhale the scent of him.

All the thoughts that had invaded his mind since he was sixteen.

Steve sighed as he got up from his seat and walked back over to the sofa.

He stared down at his resting friend for a moment before getting a burst of courage.

He leaned down, hovering over Bucky's unconscious body.
He then took his left hand, smoothed the dark hair away from Bucky's face, and pressed a light kiss to his friend's forehead.

Steve's heart sped up as Bucky stirred.

To his relief, the man only turned over, pulling the blanket closer to his face with his metal hand.

Steve smiled slightly as he backed away from the sofa. He returned to his chair and continued to watch his sleeping friend.

His Bucky was back. Maybe they weren't together the way Steve wanted them to be, but his friend was still back, and Steve would take that over nothing any day.